


Twist the Lion's Tail

by Ki_ru



Series: Into the Lion's Den [2]
Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, Blindfolds, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Crying, Cuddling, Dirty Talk, Gags, In a way, Lion is a brat, M/M, Overstimulation, PWP, Praise Kink, Sex Toys, Shameless Smut, Size Kink, Sounding, Spanking, Submission, Verbal Humiliation, sounding is kinda the main thing so be warned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-02-29 11:17:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18777193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ki_ru/pseuds/Ki_ru
Summary: The two of them have overcome some of their... initial difficulties and now meet up regularly to play. This is one of their sessions.





	Twist the Lion's Tail

**Author's Note:**

> There's a piece that goes between Uneasy Alliance and this part and you can [find it here!](https://kiruuuuu.tumblr.com/post/181240553679/i-received-this-a-while-ago-and-actually-wrote) It's not required to be able to read this part, but if you do, please scroll up and heed the warnings.

There’s hardly a feeling sweeter in the world than having a secret.

Bandit’s apartment is spotless, all dishes cleaned and put away, no worn clothes strewn about, the dust bunnies evicted – it’s small but cosy and looks like a relatively well-to-do bachelor’s home if he’s ever seen one: the kitchen bright with enough counter space, the living room comfortable, shelves sparsely decorated but filled with books, DVDs, games, CDs. He even had coffee ready yet wasn’t prepared for someone lactose intolerant, so he offered alternatives but got declined – fortunately, he doesn’t know how old the tea bags are and didn’t want to open the fridge to put all the chilled beer bottles on display. There are tiny details which give him away, betray the usual – or rather former – state of his flat, like a wrapper poking out from under the couch, the barely-visible layer of dust on the higher shelves, the sorry state of his cupboards’ insides.

But right now, no one would suspect anything.

The meeting doesn’t take longer than fifteen minutes, a courtesy of his insurance company, a regular check-up, just a few details changing. They prefer meeting personally and Bandit does, too, so he jokes a little, stays unfailingly polite and shows off his respectable abode with an air of indifference projecting normalcy. Yes, it always looks like this. He’s just a normal citizen, nothing to hide, no dark secrets to conceal.

Except for the deliberately closed bedroom door. Whenever he spots it out of the corner of his eye, whenever he _thinks_ about it, any of it, his excitement rises. Oh, he’s enjoying this.

The clerk shakes his hand firmly as a goodbye and leaves with a spring in his step, and is none the wiser.

When Bandit opens the door to his bedroom, he catches Lion trying to grind against the dildo buried deep inside him by pushing his heel against its base, and though the Frenchman freezes at Bandit’s entry, he can’t really hide what he was doing. He’s still spread-eagled on his back, wrists tied to the posts (and Bandit is glad he spent the extra money on getting a suitably study frame) and calves to his thighs, folding his legs in half and rendering him not as immobile as Bandit usually prefers. Still, he recently discovered that he likes it when Lion flails and has the illusion of being capable of escaping, so he opted for this version today.

He spends a long moment just observing the delicious view in front of him, taking in every aspect he changed about the man, every mark he left. The blindfold is still there, as is the ball gag, but the small bullet vibrator previously tied to Lion’s weeping dick has slipped off and is now humming quietly against his side. Both sets of cheeks are bright red, the upper ones due to the shame and embarrassment of being caught out like this and the lower ones due to the relentless spanking received earlier, an act which left the skin bruised and aching – no doubt the reason why Lion is attempting to balance himself on his tiptoes to take the weight off his lower body. He’s sweaty, exhausted and trembling, yet his cock is unwaveringly hard and refusing to surrender.

It burns under Bandit’s fingernails how much he wants to own this man.

“Did I give you permission to move?”, he asks sharply and relishes Lion’s immediate flinch at the tone of his voice. He knows he’s in trouble now.

Slowly, he shakes his head. His position must be uncomfortable yet he knows better than to rectify it himself. Affection blooms in Bandit’s chest: he’s trained him well, but it takes two parties to do this. Lion has become malleable, much more willing to play along and obey. Unintelligible syllables are formed around the gag and though Bandit can’t identify any of them, he knows what his pet is trying to say: _I’m sorry_.

So obedient. His heart melts a little while his erection is dictating to get on with it, so he kneels down on the bed, between Lion’s legs, smiling when the Frenchman makes more room for him. “Behave yourself or I’ll have to punish you, bitch. Now go back to how I left you.” Groaning in discomfort, Lion lowers his behind back onto the bed and pulls his knees up until his thighs are spread and parallel to the rest of his body, his most private parts invitingly presented to Bandit.

“Better.” He puts the vibrator back on, fixing it in place with a hair tie and ignoring the puddle of precum pooling on Lion’s belly, and removes the nipple clamps to a half relieved, half suffering moan which only adds to his own arousal. Merciless, he teases the two purpling buds with rough fingertips, smiling when Lion shies away from the unbidden ministrations. “You know, I did consider making up an excuse to dip in here. Leave the door ajar. Allow him to see, if he wanted to.”

Under his digits, the heartbeat speeds up: Lion is imagining it.

“You’d make for such a pretty picture. Maybe he’d want to use you as well. Or tell me what I should do with you. Because you didn’t stay put like I ordered, did you?” His voice is hoarse, partly from the endless training exercises they’ve been doing lately, and partly from yelling at Lion earlier, possibly no more than half an hour ago. The redhead has been wound up so tightly he was threatening to snap; failure looming over him and mental health declining from all the stress he imposed on himself, so when Bandit suggested they meet, Lion seemed oddly relieved and agreed immediately – usually he’s the one who initiates, lets Bandit know implicitly or explicitly, but this time he was glad Bandit asked first. Not a good sign. He might not even have been aware of the tension in his limbs.

Bandit capitalised on his insecurities, dragged them all to the surface and made Lion face them until he cried, wept like a baby by Bandit’s feet and begged for forgiveness as if the German himself was his precious deity, as if Bandit had any control over Lion’s fate. Well – he does, in a way, but it’s severely limited. They got interrupted just as Bandit was making the Frenchman forget all his worries by making him forget _everything_ really, so now he has to get back to work on forcing Lion into an almost meditative state of sensation, of the here and now. He follows a simple formula: tear down, erase evidence, build back up. Right now, Lion is starving for affection but if Bandit provided what he _thinks_ he needs, he might end up doubting the praise and believing the harsh insults. No, he has to forget all of it first.

Once again, Lion shakes his head because he knows he was naughty in trying to stimulate himself more than what Bandit allowed him, and once again he’s overcome with an oddly fuzzy feeling he fights down instantly. “But you know I wouldn’t do that”, he adds, softer, and cards his hand through auburn strands, making Lion jump at the sudden touch. An eager nod. “Tell me why.”

The strung-up Frenchman produces more noises which Bandit can easily interpret: _Because I’m yours_. “Because you’re mine”, he echoes in agreement. “And what else?” More mumbling. “Yes. You are a good boy, aren’t you? Except for that little slip up, you’ve been good. Do you want a reward?”

Lion’s hesitation almost makes him giggle: he’s conditioned him to be wary of questions like this one and it shows. As much as he’d love to suck on Lion’s nipples forever, he should get on with it before his lover’s legs go numb, so he gives the other man a quick once-over (just to appreciate the reddened skin, all the discolouration on his thighs and buttocks, the thin but constant stream of drool running down Lion’s cheek, the shaking fingers and shallow breathing) and gets up to rummage around in his magic box, the sound of which has Lion still in trepidation.

Bandit finds what he’s looking for and settles back on the mattress, irregular gasps for air and quiet buzzing their own personal soundtrack running in the background. He weighs Lion’s balls in one palm and smiles to himself when the Frenchman jerks back instinctively, fear making him skittish, smooth skin stretching over taut muscles and fingers twitching, probably just like his eyelids under the black cloth. “You’re gonna like this”, Bandit promises him, grin audible in his words. “You enjoy blowjobs, don’t you?”

He’s only had Lion’s cock in his mouth once and didn’t particularly care for repeating _that_ performance which set all this in motion, caused them to end up like this, but inspiration struck a week or two ago and since then he’s been obsessed with what he’s about to do to the man before him. When he receives no reply, he smacks crimson skin and earns a pained groan as well as shaking thighs. This particular high has run out a while ago, and so his slaps trigger no more than sharp agony instead of the usual intoxicating, brilliant ache.

Reluctantly, Lion nods a yes. “Of course you do. Who doesn’t? Your dick looks really fucking delicious right now, you think I can ruin my throat by swallowing it whole?” The body part in question jumps involuntarily and knocks the vibrator off again, so Bandit turns it off and tosses it aside to instead give the shaft a few hard tugs. Watching Lion’s toes curl in response to pleasurable sensations is one of his favourite pastimes. “There’s just one issue: your dick is about as straight as you are, you little cockslut. So I’ll have to get it into shape.”

And Lion gets it. It takes him a second, but he gets it.

This is the moment Bandit leans over him and unclasps the gag, drops the drenched object onto the floor as well and watches the rosy lips work around nothing, mouth forming words which will never be spoken because Lion knows that if he speaks without explicit permission, he might end up getting whipped and he _hates_ getting whipped. Or maybe tased a little. Bandit’s got options. It’s lovely to witness how hard Lion is holding himself back, so Bandit also pushes the blindfold up to reveal a wild, unfocused gaze, eyes squinting at the sudden brightness.

“You can watch me stuff both your holes, bitch.” And with that, Bandit presents him his collection of sounding rods, sorted by size and type, most of them smooth, some sporting a flared tip, a gentle curve or noticeable ridges.

Lion chokes out half of a French curse, veins starting to stand out as he futilely fights his restraints, and just as Bandit picks out the thinnest one, he can’t keep silent anymore: “No – no, please, don’t -”

So far, they’ve only done this once, with mixed results: Lion later claimed to detest the sensation despite creaming himself in record time, barely requiring more than a few strokes until his cum dribbled out of him almost sadly, as if it was ashamed of how fucking depraved its producer was. Bandit had a similar reaction the first time he let a guy fuck him, only to secretly obsess about it until he allowed himself another go years later, resulting in one of the most powerful orgasms he’s ever had. He’s taking a chance here in Lion having a similar experience. Also, he just _really_ wants to get under his skin again.

They’ve experimented a lot by now, or rather: Bandit has tried out numerous things on Lion and Lion either cried, moaned or whimpered his way through it, and he’s wondering if he’ll run out of material to use on the ginger eventually – and what that’s going to mean for the two of them.

“For every protest I’ll move up a size”, Bandit informs the redhead and carefully counts out three, landing on the one he applied last time.

“I don’t want it”, Lion pleads, eyes darting back and forth between Bandit’s expectant expression and once more moving fingers. A pause. Bandit’s eyebrow lifts but the Frenchman stays silent, so it’s decided. He removes the stainless steel from its case and grabs the lube just as Lion blurts out, voice thick: “Please don’t do this.”

And _fuck_.

At the end of the day, Lion has excellent self control. He started out a rebellious, whimpering mess and became an obedient pet over time, reacting to small cues, avoiding punishments, learning to hold back – and right now he only has a fat dildo shoved up his ass as well as ropes holding him in place. There’s no chance he’d slip up accidentally, not after he’s been through being suspended from the ceiling (though to be fair, he was too busy gagging around Bandit’s cock to talk back) and much worse while having his tongue under control.

“You”, Bandit growls and switches to a thicker rod, just like he threatened he would, “are such a kinky son of a bitch. Do you kiss your son with that mouth? Do you tell him that the reason you’re walking funny is that you encouraged a guy you hate to fuck your urethra with a foreign object? You’re going to piss fire for a week and you’re probably even going to enjoy it since you’re such a slut.”

Lion is blushing furiously at this point, ashamed at being found out yet remaining quiet, watching in terror as Bandit spreads viscous liquid on the metal shaft in preparation.

“Say it.”

The red on his cheeks deepens but there’s hardly a delay: “I’m a slut.” His accent always thickens when he’s distracted and Bandit imagines the cool tip of the sound brushing against the edges of the small hole to be _quite_ distracting.

“Say that you’re a cum-guzzling, cock-worshipping, sinful sissy slut”, Bandit orders with a wide grin which only stretches his lips further the moment Lion attempts to repeat after him, probably not even registering the words for obvious reasons, because it’s the very moment the rod slips in. He can basically observe how Lion’s mental hard drive is slowly erased by the onslaught of largely unfamiliar sensation and his face displays a magnificent range of emotions: disbelief, discomfort, distaste, faint pleasure, and curiosity. It’s his usual reaction to the activities Bandit introduces, which means only one thing: he likes it.

The toes are working overtime with every millimetre the silvery object glides deeper, stuttery exclamations accompanying the endless slide, and at one point Lion almost goes cross-eyed. It’s beautiful. Bandit examines with interest how the metal straightens out the otherwise upwards-curved cock and occasionally helps with a tiny bit of pressure, careful not to force, tear or injure anything. One of his concerns was Lion moving too much but it seems the perceived danger of permanently messing up his dick has him largely paralysed – or maybe it’s the shock over being able to take a sizeable rod like this. He steadies the shaft with one hand and moves the sound with the other, pulling it up a bit, rotating it between fingertips and letting it settle back in until the ball at the end sits snug against Lion’s urethra.

Light blue eyes stare at the innocuous steel with incredulity whereas Bandit feels a surge of pride. “You did it”, he tells Lion seriously. “Congratulations. You really do enjoy getting all your holes stuffed. And since you were such a good little boy, I’ll reward you now.”

A protest dies in Lion’s throat the moment Bandit closes his lips around the dark red head. He knows what it feels like, knows how it is to experience both the pressure from within as well as outside, knows that all sensations are much more intense this way. Normally he leaves Lion gagged, unable to object and forced to repeat after Bandit in unintelligible mumbling, the pleading nature of some of his vocalisations only conveyed through tone of voice, not distinct syllables. He revels in the resulting power, but sometimes he puts Lion to the test by giving him the benefit of the doubt, granting him the opportunity to speak provided he does so in set parameters.

Right now though, he doesn’t want to challenge Lion’s discipline. He just wants to hear these throaty moans unobstructed.

And the lion is _roaring_.

Not all of it is pleasure, Bandit can tell as much, the whole thing probably half weird, undecided and confusing, and half one of the best experiences the Frenchman has ever gone through, but the sheer volume nearly has him come in his pants on the spot. Focusing is almost impossible yet he somehow manages to swirl his tongue over the sensitive glans regardless, sucks on it and briefly worries about Lion ripping off the headboard. He knows he’s good at this, is intimately familiar with Lion’s most sensitive spots and exploits them devotedly, idly wondering just how much the other man can take. He’s currently busy massaging the frenulum with the tip of his tongue when he notices his hands are unoccupied. Well. Time to go to town on both ends.

Lion is shaking like a leaf in response to Bandit slowly sliding the dildo in and out, deliberately avoiding rubbing over his prostate as his head bobs up and down, and the noises the ginger is producing now are like a symphony. He could go on like this forever, test whether he can make Lion come hard enough that he spurts around the steel, probably hitting the ceiling in the process, but with every passing second his own neglected erection strains against the unforgiving material of his jeans. They’ve been at it for a while already and even if they hadn’t been, he’d be worried about Lion actually passing the fuck out.

He pulls off the rock hard cock, closing his teeth around the tip of the sound and dragging it upwards until it’s _almost_ out, then lets go and allows gravity to do its job. Steadying the heavy shaft, he watches in satisfaction how the rod effortlessly glides back in, wrenching more desperate groans from the Frenchman and the first clear word since the foreign object has entered his body: “ _Stop_.”

“You’re such a fucking size queen, unbelievable.” Bright eyes widen in genuine panic – this time, Lion actually forgot the consequences of backtalk and Bandit is tempted to remind him. He really should. And he really shouldn’t let the small teardrops glistening in thick lashes sway him towards a more merciful approach, but Lion has been so tame recently, even agreed on abstaining from jerking off unless prompted, asked him to choke him, sucked him off until he couldn’t breathe. “But you don’t really want more than this, do you?”

The frantic head shaking only makes Bandit want to bully him some more. He’s adorable when he’s about to cry, and even more so when he thinks he’s had enough. Bandit knows better. “No, no please, I can’t – I can’t take it, I -”

“Have more faith in yourself, kitten, you absolutely can take it. I know you can.” He keeps his words as gentle as his movements, withdrawing the rod a little and letting it sink back inside, causing eyelids to flutter and fingers to twitch. “Look at you. You’re doing so well, I’m sure you can handle more than this.”

“I can’t, I don’t want it. Please take it out, untie me, it’s not -”

“Shut up.” Lion’s mouth snaps closed instantly and Bandit suppresses a smirk. He leans over the other man, fist closing around the rigid shaft as a silent threat not to move, the fingers of his other hand tilting Lion’s chin until they’re face to face. The pretty blush on his cheeks hasn’t faded and neither has the look of terror in his wide eyes – he’s delectable, a feast Bandit wants to devour whole, and knowing that he can make this human being do whatever he wants, remembering all the things he _has_ made him do already is a power rush which tingles in his limbs, fizzes under his scalp. “Do you want this to be over?”

Irises dart back and forth in uncertainty. He can’t decide whether it’s a trap or not, avoids Bandit’s piercing gaze for a few seconds and then lets out a pitiful whimper when his tender backside is slapped harshly. Tears of pain well up just as he gives a meek nod.

“Then you know what to ask for.”

This is Lion’s least and most favourite part simultaneously: he knows Bandit will take care of him and make him feel better than ever before, but at the same time he’s required to beg for it. With everything else, the electric wand is usually incentive enough to force him into humiliating displays, meaning Lion’s conscience is relatively clear afterwards, but on this Bandit doesn’t budge. Either Lion asks politely or all he ends up with is a limp-wristed handjob, as he knows from experience – he’s refused before and received that very treatment, changed his mind halfway through and visibly struggled with how much he wanted more yet couldn’t bring himself to speak it out loud. Bandit simply won’t support this kind of hypocrisy, not in his bedroom. Outside, Lion can be as much in the closet as he wants to.

“Come on, babe. You know you want it.” Relentlessly, he moves the sounding tool, rotates and tilts it gingerly, quite obviously robbing Lion of any coherent thought if his spaced out expression is anything to go by. He’s holding his breath now, focusing solely on the sensations so Bandit’s words probably hardly register but he keeps talking nonetheless. “Be honest, you can’t even come without my dick in your ass, you need me to stir up your guts. And doesn’t it feel amazing every time?”

He forces his thumb into Lion’s mouth, pries his lips open and presses down on his tongue, dragging the Frenchman back to reality, back to him. “Isn’t it the only reason you keep coming back? So I can use your tight little fuckhole the way your precious God intended?” Brows draw together and Lion attempts to turn his head away yet ends up gagging when Bandit’s thumb slips deeper into his mouth. “If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have made it as hot, don’t you think? It’s entirely too pretty not to be ruined by me. And you love it. You love my cock inside you.” When he receives nothing but a defiant stare, he lets go of the shaft yet again to rake his nails down the underside of Lion’s thigh, the pressure enough to make him wince already. His threat is understood and met with a nod as well as lips closing around his digit, sucking lightly as an act of submission. He needs to be convinced every time.

After withdrawing his hand and wiping the spit on Lion’s own face, he’s delighted to hear it come bubbling out of the prideful, broken man below him: “Fuck me. Please, just fuck me.”

Bandit can’t help himself. “What was that? Sorry, I didn’t quite hear.”

“ _Fuck me_. I love it, I can’t get enough of it, I want it -”

Together with composure, all shame has been thrown out the window now and oddly, it’s a relief for both of them. “What do you want?”, Bandit demands to know while sitting up and getting himself ready: he rarely does more than unbuttoning his jeans and pulling out his dick, he enjoys the discrepancy in clothing just as much as he enjoys dominating Lion in any way possible.

“I want you. I want your cock. I want you inside of me, please, I want you so bad.” The one thing Lion probably wants above all else is for Bandit to take out the steel rod seeing as he’s not at all comfortable with how much pleasure it provides – and the signs are unmistakable, the glassy look in his eyes, the way he rolls his hips into it, toes still flexing – but he knows that to make it stop, Bandit has to fuck him. It denotes the conclusion of their sessions and so Lion begs for it. If Bandit is honest, knowing they’re only partially honest makes the pleas even hotter.

“Keep talking”, he murmurs, a smile growing on his face, and pulls the dildo out of the pulsating ring of muscle only to have it join the other discarded toys on the floor. Lion obliges willingly, babbling on and throwing Bandit’s crotch longing glances, doesn’t even stop when the German brushes over his rim with curious fingertips. He’s maltreated this hole so many times before, stretched and abused it and yet it welcomes him so warmly each time. It’s quivering in anticipation and effortlessly lets two fingers invade it.

Over time, Bandit has coaxed more information out of Lion, learnt that he indeed has experimented in his youth, has had a few encounters he’s been suppressing and from the sounds of it, they were all impersonal, chance affairs with no threat of ever meeting again. It’s one of the reasons why Bandit puts an emphasis on taking him each time, makes it deliberate, starts slow, forces Lion to acknowledge what they’re doing.

“Please put it in, I want to feel you”, Lion whines and all Bandit hears is: _give me the pleasure I’m denying myself_. “I want you to use me.”

Oh. That one’s new. Bandit’s lips curl and he’d bet everything on the fact that Lion is looking everywhere except at him, yet can’t verify his assumption since he’s busy lining up his cock with Lion’s waiting entrance. His own pleasure is secondary throughout the whole thing until the end; he gets off on Lion’s screams and whimpers and unfailingly hard erection so much it basically becomes an end in itself, provides enough enjoyment for him to leave it at that. Whenever he’s inside though, his own physical lust overtakes his hunger for a different kind of satisfaction.

He spits at where his dick is rubbing against the slick hole, an action which never fails to turn Lion’s imploring, doe-eyed gaze into something more heated – and right now, he bites his lip and his cock twitches hard around the metal inside and he does a shaky inhale which all contribute to Bandit nearly losing his mind. Lion is so fucking vulnerable and immobile, yet he _craves_ this with a worrying intensity causing Bandit to lose all inhibitions. The man before him trusts him with his life even though both of them know how bad of an idea that is.

Bandit slips inside. And only then does he remember the divine sensation of sounding and being penetrated simultaneously because Lion immediately throws his head back with a wail and almost painfully clenches down on him, shaft bouncing and body shivering and it looks so mind-numbingly _hot_ Bandit needs a moment to compose himself so he neither breaks character nor starts pounding away before Lion is ready. He’s not keen on ripping his own dick off, thank you very much, so he waits until the whimpers have died down a little before moving tentatively, pushing deeper into this tight heat enveloping him eagerly.

“Feels good?”, he wants to know and grins when the litany of _yes_ and _oh God_ and _fuck me_ he receives is quite clearly more instinctual than purposeful – Lion looks like he doesn’t know what’s happening to him anymore, muscles straining against the ropes keeping him in place, legs moving restlessly and once again trying to gain some leverage until Bandit pushes the knees back towards Lion’s ears. “I’ll make you feel even better, pet. You’ve been a good boy.”

As expected, the praise has Lion perk up momentarily, just enough so Bandit can withdraw and slam back in to full effect. The angle is perfect and has the other man arch his back silently, mouth gaping in overwhelming pleasure, and Bandit can already tell this is going to be a brief affair. His next movements spark another line of declamations of just how insanely _good_ Lion feels right now, and it’s even more automatic than before – not that the redhead is being insincere, no, his body is painfully honest with the way it meets Bandit’s motions, with the death grip around his cock, with the incredulous vocalisations, but it’s costing Lion no brain power to mutter on. It’s his default state: his mind puts together the current situation with the fact that Lion isn’t gagged and assumes that Bandit, as usual, wants him to talk.

So he pants: “Be quiet. If you say one more word, I’ll stop.” It does the trick. Lion bites his tongue, needs to make a conscious effort to cease talking about Bandit’s dick inside him but manages, remains silent except for the involuntary noises still escaping him at every hard thrust. “There you go”, Bandit murmurs soothingly, slowly losing himself in the moment as he keeps driving into this delicious velvety feeling. “You’re doing so well, kitten, I’m proud of you. You look so beautiful like this, all spread out just for me.”

Warmth floods him, adding to the lust pooling in his lower half, strengthened by the almost _loving_ gaze Lion shoots him. It’s the last part of what he has to do, and it worries him how much he’s enjoying building Lion’s confidence back up, watching him swell with joy and passion and pride, preening under his compliments and fighting an almost bashful smile. It’s cute. It’s fucking _cute_. Bandit is shagging him raw after basically beating him up and all he can think about is how adorable it is to see him light up at a few friendly words.

This won’t stand. He goes back to manipulating the rod heightening all of Lion’s sensations and gently sliding it in and out at odds with his motions, carefully monitoring Lion’s face for signs of genuine pain which is admittedly hard with how his features are growing increasingly slack due to him floating off into a different headspace. Bandit is acquainted with the divine feeling currently holding the other man in its grip, but he can’t help himself, he tries to get through to him regardless. “You feel so good. I love the way you look at me, like there’s nothing else in the world but me. You belong to me, kitten, only I can make you feel like this.”

And Lion is fucking gone. He’s coasting on this lust-filled haze like someone who never wants to come down, cock jumping, hole spasming and every part of his in motion, all limbs struggling against the restraints, body shuddering, breath laboured, hips grinding into the merciless thrusts as his personality slowly fades away in favour of just _experiencing_. Sweat glistens on his pretty skin, his cheeks and ears are still flushed, muscles dancing and lips quivering around words he fails to produce. The barrage of stimulation is too much for him, and when Bandit lightly grazes his prostate with steel, simultaneously brushes over it with his cock from the other side, Lion merely slips deeper with a series of pitiful sobs.

Bandit is getting closer himself, the magnificent tightness around his shaft is squeezing every bit of restraint out of him and the display the Frenchman unwittingly puts on erodes his composure just as much. He’s got such an erotic, sensitive body which can withstand such punishment that Bandit is both impressed and massively turned on every time, and it’s taking its toll on him now. His pleasure is building up rapidly, so to even it out, he gingerly starts wanking Lion again, dragging foreskin over the dark purple head and kicking the noises one octave higher. The Frenchman looks ready to break any second now with how taut he is, muscles tensing up with every upstroke, tightening with every deep slam of Bandit’s hips. He’s so close to the edge, probably can see the abyss already, gets ready to be shoved off by Bandit, entirely at his mercy, and -

“Go _faster_ ”, Lion chokes out in a half-moan, and _holy shit is he serious_.

Bandit stops. It’s the equivalent of a freight train screeching to a halt just in time.

Jesus fuck, he was _right_ there.

For several seconds, it takes his entire willpower not to move as he fights the oncoming orgasm, forces it down by sheer power of mind and tries to hide just how fucking close he is to breeding Lion; his dick is throbbing painfully against Lion’s insides, lust thrumming through his veins and setting his blood on fire. He’s so hot and has never been this horny in his entire life, but he said he’d stop and so he’s stopped.

That doesn’t mean he’s not mentally cursing like a sailor at Lion’s lack of self control.

It turns out his brief yet profound struggle went unnoticed as the man before him seems to be too preoccupied with looking both intensely aroused and guilty to pay much attention to what Bandit’s doing – he’s definitely more concerned with what he’s _not_ doing. Lion is trying his best to remain as still as possible as to not anger Bandit even further, which means he’s still shuddering and clenching around Bandit’s achingly hard cock, but at least he’s not moving against him anymore.

Bandit looks down at the pitiable idiot and thinks: _There’s no way I’m not gonna shoot inside him_. He has to give him an out. He has to. And so he utters but one word: “Speak.”

“I’m so sorry”, Lion instantly babbles, “please, please don’t stop, I didn’t mean it – it just felt so good, _you_ felt good, I’m sorry, I won’t ever -”

And then his apologies devolve into gibberish the second Bandit withdraws and bottoms out again. The prospect of not being allowed to come has launched Lion into full blown panic mode and for some reason, that just does it for Bandit. He lets out a blissful groan and gropes for something to hold onto, inadvertently pressing his palm against bruised skin and earning an indignant squawk which he ignores entirely, lets his need take over and thrusts deep into Lion who’s still mumbling, still begging.

“Please let me come, please come inside, I fucking want you so bad, I’m sorry, I’ll be good, I -”, and Bandit’s getting light-headed at this point, “oh _please_ , please, please let me come, I can’t take it anymore”, and here Bandit remembers he needs to get Lion off too, left him hanging as well as himself. Lion’s words deteriorate once again when fingers wrap around his shaft, and then he shoots up, curls into himself as much as the ropes allow it, and tightens gloriously around Bandit as he climaxes.

The noises leaving Lion’s throat the moment Bandit pulls out the sounding rod perfectly in sync with his orgasm hitting him full force are something to behold; primal, raw, unrestrained. He doesn’t need further stimulation to violently shoot his sperm all over himself, and yet Bandit keeps going, tries to keep up the fast tempo to prolong Lion’s pleasure but comes undone by Lion’s walls rhythmically tensing around him, pulsing distinctly in time with the orgasmic waves rolling through Lion and Bandit’s _done_.

He comes halfway through Lion’s vicious orgasm, buries himself deep and lets his eyes roll back into his skull over the utterly ecstatic feeling spreading from his lower half all throughout his body. Tumbling over the edge and the free fall afterwards have never felt this good, the relief never this sweet. He blindly grabs the jute rope under his fingertips and lets the sheer insatiable release overtake him completely, wipe his thoughts, control his body, make his cock twitch and ejaculate forcefully. Lion’s moans mirror his own and it’s only when they turn into uncomfortable mewls that he notices he’s still moving, albeit only slightly. He stills, inhales deeply and revels in the fierce aftershocks nearly making him gasp with how each of them feels like electricity.

When he opens his eyes, Lion’s are still closed. Both of them are breathing hard, simply feeling the sensations in their bodies, and in his muddled state, Bandit belatedly realises he hasn’t marked his pet yet, not really. The discolouration is too impersonal to count, the marks from the clothes pins have almost faded already and the lightning bolt he occasionally refreshes, branded onto Lion’s belly, is hardly visible anymore. Since he was expecting to be interrupted at some point, he didn’t label Lion, didn’t write degrading or uplifting phrases onto his pale skin – and by now it’s too late anyway, he wants to cause no pain anymore.

Riding the high from his climax still, he makes a quick decision and latches onto the inside of Lion’s thigh with his lips, just above his knee, covers a bare section with his mouth and sucks a hickey into existence. He repeats the action until it’s deep purple and then sets out to free the large feline from its cage.

The wrists come first so that Lion can rub some feeling back into his fingers if he wants to, then the legs. Bandit helps stretch them out cautiously, distracted grunts telling him that Lion isn’t fully back in reality yet, and considers at least wiping off the come-stained torso before joining Lion – he really came _everywhere_ , even hit the headboard and his own cheek. Lion hasn’t started to descend yet though and Bandit prefers being there when it happens, so with complete disregard of his own clothes, he lies down next to the Frenchman and drapes the blanket over them.

This time, it’s gradual, starts with a hand creeping up his midsection and only ends once Lion has wrapped himself around him entirely, clinging to him like someone used to being pushed away, and that little detail shouldn’t break Bandit’s heart the way it does. He lets the other man bury his face in the nape of his neck, puts his arms around him and massages his back, digs his fingertips into tense muscle. The steady breath against his skin is a reassurance he didn’t know he needed.

“You did well”, he whispers into auburn hair and doesn’t miss the deep inhale at his words. Lion is listening. “I really am proud. You were very strong.” The grip around him tightens. He wants Lion to drink something this instant, wants to watch him shovel food into his mouth and make lame comments about whichever TV show is currently running in the background, but this has to come first. “Do you want to know what I did today?”

A weak nod. He can’t have Lion doze off just yet.

“I went to Six and asked him to be put on your team for the exercise tomorrow. Because I know you’ll have my back, no matter what. Because I know you’re going to do great and make all the right decisions. Because anyone is lucky to have you on their side.” The silence doesn’t fool him, he can feel the moisture clinging to his skin. “I overheard you complimenting Julien’s shooting today and I know he appreciated it. He was beaming for the rest of the day. And Manu invited you to have lunch with them for the first time. You know what that means.”

Lion allows for a quiet sniffle. “I’m _trying_ ”, he says, voice breaking.

“I know. I know you are. And it shows. You’re doing great, kitten. You’re good at what you do and I really appreciate your efforts. Everyone does, even if they won’t admit it.” Bandit is carding his hand through Lion’s hair now, trying to reassure him so he doesn’t start sobbing. “You’re doing great. You’re doing so much better. Every day I’m more impressed.”

And he can only hope Lion is already asleep by the time Bandit presses a quick kiss on the top of his head without really meaning to.

  


He doesn’t let the Frenchman rest for more than half an hour – partly because he really, really should eat something and partly because it’s fucking boring watching him sleep. Lion doesn’t do anything entertaining, neither flails nor talks in his sleep, though Bandit occupies himself by tickling his eyelashes and suppressing a snicker every time ginger brows draw together unconsciously. Exhaustion is weighing down his own bones but there’s absolutely no way he’s letting his guard down around the most dangerous Frenchie, so he spends the time making a mental shopping list and trying to remember what sad meal he can whip up with what little is left in his fridge. He considered ordering food before they started but delivery times aren’t guaranteed and while he carefully integrated the insurance-related interruption into his plans, he wouldn’t have appreciated a ringing doorbell while he’s fucking Lion into the mattress.

There’s always a noticeable difference in their interactions afterwards and it’s probably what helps Lion compartmentalise what they’re doing. Bandit pokes him awake and is met with disgruntled groans and hand-swatting. Lion’s body temperature is back to a normal level, as are his heart rate and breathing – Bandit checked before waking him up – and so the German leaves him in bed to run a bath as well as fetch a glass of water and a slice of toast slathered with Nutella.

“I don’t ever wanna fucking do that again”, Lion announces with his mouth full, huddled in one corner of the bed and wrapped in the duvet, looking like a thoroughly debauched burrito with the way his damp hair is sticking up. He’s back to his usual resting bitch face and gives every object Bandit picks off the ground a dark look.

“What, me leaving you tied up? Or sounding?”

His cheeks are taking on a rosy tint again as they’re wont to do whenever they discuss any details like this. “Is that what it’s called? It’s the fucking _worst_. Who the fuck looked at their dick and thought hey, let’s shove something _into_ this.”

“You came so hard you could’ve given yourself a facial if you’d tilted your head up”, Bandit points out and takes note of the fact that Lion made no mention of the former option. Maybe he should look into proper shibari again, wrap Lion up like the best kind of birthday present and then leave him to go shopping – or better yet, make him wear a rope harness under his clothes and then go out together.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t like it.”

Spoiled fucking brat. Bandit is tempted to throw the ball gag at his head. “You didn’t like it the way you don’t like tattoos or the way you don’t like whips?”

It’s entirely too easy to fluster him, especially since he’s not at all confident in this part of his sexuality yet. He flounders, buys time by shoving the rest of the toast into his mouth and almost choking himself yet eventually manages to murmur: “Like whips.” Punishment material then. Bandit turns away from him to hide his smile just as Lion adds in a smaller voice: “And I do like tattoos. Just not on myself.”

Oh.

This is dangerous territory. He gazes down at the faded ink on his hands, a question in his throat which he swallows as quickly as it came up. He doesn’t need this. He doesn’t need any of it. He’s extended every courtesy towards Lion in the past months, went above and beyond, much more than he really should have, and now the ginger’s getting clingy. In the beginning it was fear of abandonment which drove Lion back into his claws, possibly the prospect of being _understood_ , of someone knowing more about Lion than Lion himself, of someone being able to take care of him in a different way to everyone else in his life. Now? Bandit is not so sure. The therapeutical effect is as strange as it is obvious, catharsis indubitably helping Lion address and overcome issues very, very slowly, and it’s a responsibility Bandit would gladly pass on. But Lion won’t let him.

He keeps coming back and Bandit simply can’t say no.

“Are you joining me?”, the redhead asks a tad too casually after downing the second glass Bandit provides him. He shakes his head. “You smell and your clothes are filthy. You really should.”

“I’ll shower after you”, Bandit dismisses his concerns and continues tidying the room in silence. A quick glance lets him know that Lion is watching him, aqua eyes unreadable. He’s never once undressed around Lion, not that he can remember, and lately the Frenchman has been trying to change that fact for some reason unknown to him.

And then comes a phrase he never thought he’d hear from Lion outside of the context of their sessions: “Thank you.”

Bandit nearly drops the hairbrush. “What?”

The brat has the audacity to look entirely unconcerned. “I said thank you. You told me to be more grateful, so that’s what I’m doing.”

He’s going to be left with a headache after Lion is gone, he’s sure of it. “Just go take your fucking bath, kid.”

  


Half an hour later, Bandit feels human again. Lion caught on to him bursting into the bathroom one too many times to allegedly put things back where they belong and assured him that he wasn’t going to drown in Bandit’s tub, so he angrily monologued in his head while showering alone afterwards, making fantastic points as to why he definitely wasn’t checking up on Lion, yet he can’t bring them up now for fear of the Frenchman accusing him of obsessing about it. When he returned, fully dressed, Lion had scraped together a meagre meal of canned peaches and French toast which they wolfed down in front of the TV, at opposite ends of the couch and bickering over whether French toast really comes from Lion’s home country or not, neither of them caring enough to check on their readily accessible phones.

It occurs to him that Lion is still around. Not that he usually leaves immediately, once he even stayed over because he couldn’t feel his legs and didn’t trust himself to drive (and Bandit was too livid to drive him, furious with him for not letting him know sooner), but he’s not normally lazing around this comfortably. Was it a gradual development? Bandit can’t remember an instance where Lion didn’t look out of place in his flat, wasn’t stiff or perched on the very front of whichever piece of furniture he was occupying, and the longer he observes him out of the corner of his eye, the more he gets the creeping feeling of getting used to his company.

Terrifying. He should really throw him out immediately.

“I’ve seen the scars, you know”, Lion states apropos nothing. Bandit remains silent. “You don’t need to hide them. Besides, anyone just needs to fake some concern for you and your best friend readily talks about anything they wanna know.”

He makes a mental note to smack Blitz the next time he sees him. “If you want to see me naked so badly, you could just ask.”

Mistake. Lion calls his bluff easily, almost _bored_ : “I want to see you naked.”

“Why?” They’re not looking at each other, instead talking at the flickering screen in front of them.

“It’s just fair, isn’t it?”

“Life’s not fair, kiddo.”

“Stop fucking calling me that.” Lion gives in first, turns and glares. “I’ve _seen_ them, I know what they look like. You know I have them myself, you don’t need to be ashamed.” With how aggressive his tone is, it’s not the real message he wants to bring across. Maybe he’s implying that if Bandit hides his scars, it means Lion is weak for showing his own. “I also didn’t – I didn’t know - … when you talked about putting cigarettes out on skin, I didn’t know you -”

“They’re bullet wounds.” Bandit’s pride at how level he sounds is short-lived.

“Bullet wounds my ass. I know what those scars look like, and they’re _nothing_ like yours. Don’t lie to me.” He’s upset now, genuinely angry and Bandit is at a loss. What even brought this on? He has no idea what’s happening. When he opens his mouth to say God knows what, Lion lunges, goes for his shirt, claws at the hem and accidentally punches him in the process, pins him down with his weight and Bandit’s alarm bells are shrieking now.

Blinding, brilliant panic flares up in him at the rough touches and he considers fighting first, scratching, biting and kicking, struggling with all his might – but another thought enters his mind. And so he only hisses: “ _Stop_.”

Lion stops. He doesn’t look too pleased about it, yet he freezes completely, uncertainly glancing at Bandit’s face like a child not knowing whether an uncrossable boundary has been found. The gesture makes Bandit calm down straightaway, because if Lion listens to him, he won’t – he can’t do anything. He’s still his pet, after all.

He belatedly realises that Lion has been absent-mindedly rubbing over the inside of his thigh all this time, just above the knee. Where Bandit left his mark.

“Don’t take anything that’s not on offer”, he tells Lion and earns a defiant stare, almost a pout.

“You do that all the time. You’re -”

“Suck me.”

Lion shuts up. If he’s honest, he’s not quite sure where it came from, whether it’s a test or a serious request or merely another attempt at riling up the ginger once again, but seeing the Frenchman thrown off like this is remarkably satisfying. He loves to mouth off still, especially to Bandit and especially after they’re done, but today he’s particularly irritating, maybe feels the need to try and push Bandit around a little for show, coax him into a display of dominance or the likes, so -

And then Lion slides to the floor and crawls between his legs, gently pushing them apart with warm palms and Bandit was not at all prepared. Despite giving the command, he never once considered Lion obeying, which is why he’s completely lost the moment Lion’s teeth grab his zip and attempt to pull it down.

He considers it. For a few glorious seconds, he pictures Lion blowing him eagerly, putting that pretty mouth and all that practise to use without requiring physical pain or another incentive to do it. Bandit told him to, and therefore he’s doing it, lips shiny with spit and large blue eyes fixed on Bandit’s face, cataloguing his every reaction, swirling tongue intent on making him moan, and it’d be beautiful to look at. He imagines kissing Lion afterwards, licking some of the spill off his chin and tasting himself on Lion’s tongue. It’d be fantastic. It’d be heaven.

It’d be one of the worst ideas Bandit would ever have indulged in.

Because they’re not playing right now. This is – well, _real_ , for the lack of a better word, there are no rules here, this is uncharted territory. And while Bandit has foolishly allowed this… thing, whatever it is, to bleed into their everyday life – not often and not invasive –, this would be going too far.

“Go home”, he says.

Lion pauses and just looks at him silently, expression closed off. Eventually, he gets up and takes his previous spot, stretches out on the sofa and continues watching TV.

Bandit doesn’t press the issue. He knows Lion has nothing to go home to. And if he’s honest, he can’t even complain when they start bickering over which channel to watch a long while later.

**Author's Note:**

> Come visit [my tumblr](http://kiruuuuu.tumblr.com/) if you'd like to say hi ♥ I'm much more active there :)


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